


you build me up like steps

by ohmcgee



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Porn with minimal Plot, Slow Build, Tim is a fan of research, is this a date or are we just eating food together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:50:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4860182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Tim faces this problem the same way he faces every problem he comes up against, faces it the only way he knows how. </i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>With research.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	you build me up like steps

**Author's Note:**

> For Rachel, who wanted a Jay who hadn't really got around to dating much and is totally oblivious to people hitting on him. DID YOU KNOW HE DIED ONCE??

“Do you know,” Tim says, one foot on the edge of the roof. “I spend so much time on rooftops that I sometimes forget what it really looks like. You know, on ground level.”

Jason huffs out a breath. He’s not smoking for once, just standing adjacent to Tim with his arms over his chest, staring out across the skyline. “Most things look nicer from far away.”

Tim turns around. Jason’s got the hood tucked under one arm and shockingly, which Tim would mock him endlessly about if he wasn’t so goddamned distracted by his _eyes_ , he’d neglected to put a domino on underneath. 

“I don’t know,” he says, taking in Jason’s sharp, rugged features. “Some things are better up close.”

Jason gives him a weird look and puts the hood back on and Tim’s _always_ hated that thing, but right now he just wishes he could set it on fire. 

“Well, gotta fly,” Jason says, slipping his grapple gun from his belt. “Apparently, I’m the good guy now.”

 

***

 

In December kids start disappearing off the streets. Homeless kids, kids who live in group homes, generally kids that no one would miss. Jason picks up on the case before Bruce does, comes straight to him with it. 

“I've got my hands full with the Riddler’s games, currently,” Bruce says, though he uses the computer and gets Jason all the information on it he possibly can, tapping into the police database and everything. “I can spare Tim. Take him with you.”

Jason’s still surprised at how well he and Tim work together. Sure they’re constantly at each other’s throats, their banter generally more malicious than witty, but it’s comfortable. Jason knows what to expect when he’s working with Tim. Not to mention, and Jason will never, ever tell him this, but he’s damn good at what he does. He’s annoying and anal and by the book and nags Jason left and right about not using “lethal force,” but he’s smart as shit and one of the best fighter’s Jason’s ever seen for his size. 

It takes a couple of days of staking the place out and gathering information before they can charge in and Jason hates the waiting. He’s _always_ hated waiting, even when he was -- he just hates waiting.

“My god,” Tim says and just _looking_ at him sets Jason on edge. He’s pretty sure the kid hasn’t moved a _pinky toe_ in at least an hour. “Can you just sit still?”

“I don’t know,” Jason snaps. “Can you be less of a freak?”

For two days it goes like that, squatting in this tiny, run down room in an old, abandoned building across the street from where they think the kids are being taken. Every now and then Tim or Jason will run down the street to get Thai or Indian or Chinese and one of them will keep watch while the other eats. 

“I don’t know why you hate the new movies so much,” Tim is saying while he eats his noodles. “They aren’t that bad.”

“You’re shiting me, right?” Jason says from behind a pair of binoculars. “Two words for you, replacement. Jar-Jar Binks.”

Tim snorts. “Okay, I’ll give you that one.” He cracks open his fortune cookie and Jason turns around when he hears the crunch.

“What’s Confucius say this time?”

“Land is always on the mind of a flying bird.” Tim says, snorts. “Not this bird.”

He digs another out of the paper sack he brought their food in and tosses it to Jason. Jason smashes the cookie with his fist then unwraps the plastic, pulls out the slip of paper from the shards of fortune cookie, wrinkles his face up and snorts. “That’s not a fucking fortune,” he says and wads it up, tosses it to Tim and hits him in the nose with it.

Tim picks it up and unravels the slip of paper. _People are naturally attracted to you._

“Well,” he says, licking his lips when Jason turns to look at him. “At least it’s true.”

He sees the muscles in Jason’s neck and shoulders visibly tense up, sighs when Jason turns around, looks across the street.

“Hey,” he says. “I think that’s our guy.”

 

***

 

It wasn’t their guy and they just end up busting in a warehouse where some gangsters were cutting coke, but hey, at least someone went to jail that night.

 

***

 

After they finally wrap up the case with the kids and put the sick bastard away, Tim finds Jason in a bar, drowning himself in a bottle of whiskey. 

“I’ve seen awful shit,” Jason says, not looking up from the stain on the bar. “Really fucked up stuff. I can deal with...but I just can’t deal with that shit.”

“I have nightmares,” Tim says, settling on the barstool next to Jason. “My neighbors called the cops once I was screaming so loud.”

“This job sucks,” Jason says. 

“Mm,” Tim agrees, stealing one of Jason’s shots and tossing it back. “But what else are we good at?”

“What indeed,” Jason says and lifts a shot glass toward Tim and throws it back. 

They leave the bar together about an hour later, smelling like cigarettes and cheap beer. Jason leans against the wall outside and lights up a cigarette. Tim watches as he hollows his cheek, the way his lips clamp down around the tip of it, the shape they make when he exhales from the side of his mouth so as to not blow smoke in Tim’s face.

“What are you doing?” Jason asks and Tim doesn’t really understand the question, just gives him a puzzled look. “Here,” Jason says. “With me.”

“Having a drink?”

Jason shakes his head. “You’ve got friends. Like, a whole team of ‘em. Hot blonde with curves for days? Clone boy who looks at you like you done roped the moon? So spill. Why are you here? What do you want?”

Tim sighs. He doesn’t understand why Jason is playing so hard to get. Maybe he actually doesn’t like him? Maybe Tim read the signals wrong. No. He doesn’t read signals wrong. Tim picks up on body language, on tells and gestures, can figure somebody out by the look in their eye and the set of their jaw. He’s _never_ read anyone wrong before and he’s not wrong about Jason.

“Jason,” he says. “You know what I want.”

Jason eyes him warily. “No,” he says. “I really don’t.”

Tim huffs out a breath. He’s had enough. He’s not a tightrope walker like Dick. He wanted to be Robin so he went out and made it happen. He doesn't wait around, he gets shit done. 

Jason makes a startled noise when Tim grabs him by the collar of his jacket and crashes their mouths together, puts his hands up against Tim’s chest but just leaves them there for a second, not pushing him away. His mouth parts slowly beneath Tim’s and Tim sweeps his tongue inside, backs Jason up against the brick wall in the alley next to the bar, kisses him like he’s been practicing for it his entire life. 

Jason’s beautifully flushed when Tim finally breaks away, his mouth kiss-swollen, his eyes more black than blue, and he’s breathing heavy the way he does after a good fight. But the most astounding part is how shocked he looks. 

“You’re drunk,” Jason finally says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. “Go home.”

“Jason, wait --”

“Go _home_ ,” Jason says and walks off.

Tim sighs. This was not supposed to be this difficult.

 

***

 

Tim faces this problem the same way he faces every problem he comes up against, faces it the only way he knows how. 

With research.

Dick’s folder on the batcomputer is filled with photos of him with girls, kissing and hugging and laughing and some more precarious ones that Tim scrolls through more quickly than others. Tim’s folder has photos of him with Steph, with Lynx, with Cassie, with Zoanne, with Conner. Jason’s are nothing like those. There are pictures of him with women and with men, but only ever conversations. Sometimes he’s leaning close, probably just getting information, but try as he might, Tim can’t find anything more than that.

So he moves to the next step.

Bruce gives him the most bewildered look.

“Girlfriends?” He asks, fork frozen halfway to his mouth.

“Or boyfriends,” Tim says casually with a shrug. It’s not often he gets to see the Batman blush. 

“Er,” Bruce says, setting down his fork. “Well. Being Robin can be very demanding.”

Tim raises his eyebrow as if to say _yes, I think I remember, you dick._

“Right,” Bruce clears his throat. “Well, uh. Jay. Jason. When he lived here, I don’t suppose he had much of a social life outside of being Robin. Alfred and I tried convincing him to make some friends his own age, told him he was welcome to bring them home, but he never did and then...”

“Hm,” Tim says.

Bruce eyes him suspiciously. “Why do you ask?” 

“It’s for research,” Tim says and steals a muffin on his way out.

 

***

 

“Jaybird?” Roy laughs. “I dunno, dude. There was that one girl, Whatsherface. But that kind of turned out to be a trainwreck. And he _said_ he and Kori, but I asked Kori once and she said all they did was sleep together.”

Tim raises an eyebrow.

“As in actual sleeping happened. As in Kori was the big spoon.”

Tim smiles a little behind his coffee cup.

“And he’s always like, ragging on me whenever I bring girls back, you know? Like, ‘Geeze Harper, do you ever think about anything else? Geeze Harper, do you even know her name? Geeze Harper, don’t have sex on the kitchen table I eat my cereal there.’ That kind of weird shit.”

Tim snorts. “How awful.”

Roy shrugs. “That’s Jaybird for ya.”

“So no men either?” Tim asks, glancing up at Roy as he picks the raisins off of his bagel just in time to see Roy grin.

“Well, I mean. I don’t kiss and _tell._ ”

“I’ll buy you another mocha.” Tim offers.

“Well in that case,” Roy grins, waits for Tim to actually buy him another venti before he says, “We made out a little bit.”

“How many times?”

Roy gives him this look like he’s not quite sure why Tim’s asking him these things and he’s not quite sure he should be _telling_ him, but Tim got two extra shots put in his latte, so Roy basically talks whether he wants to or not. 

“Just the once,” he says. “We were pretty drunk? Jager, man. It’s a doozy. Anyway. He was pretty fucked up from having to deal with you jerks all weekend and we did some shots and made out on the couch until he pretended to fall asleep.”

“Pretended?”

“Yeah,” Roy says. “I could tell he wasn’t, you know? But I let him be. Who knows what goes on in that boy’s mind sometimes.”

“Indeed.”

“Hey, Drake,” Roy says when Tim gets up. “The hell do you wanna know all this stuff for?”

“A case,” Tim tells him. “I’m about to wrap it up.”

 

***

A week later, Tim crawls through Jason’s window.

“How many dates have you been on?” 

Jason is the last step in solving this little mystery. 

“Um,” Jason says, putting down the gun he was cleaning. “Come on in, Tim. Make yourself at home. What the _fuck_.”

“Sorry,” Tim says, not sounded very. “Answer the question?”

Jason glares at him. “Dating isn’t actually something --”

“How. Many.”

“Three.” Jason says, crossing his arms over his chest defensively, his expression daring Tim to comment on it. 

Tim gives him a skeptical look and Jason’s expression falters.

“Fine, two. I really don’t --”

Jason huffs when Tim raises his eyebrows at him. “ _Fine_ , it was more like one and half. Being dead kinda kills a guy's game. Why the fuck do you care?’

“No reason,” Tim says. “Sorry for bothering you.” Then he crawls right back out the window he came in.

“Creep,” Jason mutters and goes back to cleaning his guns. 

 

***

 

Two nights later Tim shows up _again_ , only this time he actually knocks on the door. When Jason opens it Tim looks like he’s headed to a meeting or something. He’s wearing slacks and a silk shirt and his hair’s actually all going in the same direction for once.

“Where you off to?” Jason says casually and leaves the door open for him, going back to the sandwich he was in the middle of making when Tim knocked on the door like a weirdo. 

“I was going to go out to eat,” Tim says. “I made a reservation a month ago at La Grotta because Steph wanted to try it out, but she’s busy tonight. I thought I’d see if you wanted to go instead.”

Jason looks down at his sad, sad sandwich. “You’re paying?”

Tim smiles brightly at him, flashes Bruce’s gold card. 

Jason grins. “Even better. Give me ten to get ready.”

 

: : :

 

It actually takes more like twenty and Tim has to knock on Jason’s door a few times to tell him to hurry or they’re going to be late, but it’s worth the wait once Jason steps out of his bedroom. Tim just stands there and stares at him for a moment. He’s got on black slacks that fit like they’ve been tailored and a dark blue button up with the top two buttons undone, a black jacket on over that. His hair looks disheveled, but in that I-spent-twenty-minutes-to-get-it-to-look-like-this way and he smells -- god, he smells really good. 

Tim’s honestly floored. It’s not like he thought Jason walked around wearing kevlar and thigh holsters everywhere, but -- yeah, he kind of thought he did. He had no idea he could clean up this nice and it’s incredibly distracting. 

“Well,” Jason says. “Thought you said we were gonna be late.”

“Right,” Tim says, clearing his throat. “We should -- let’s go. I’m parked outside. I mean, if my car’s still there.”

Jason snorts. “Princess.”

“I’m just saying,” Tim says as they take the stairs down since the elevator’s out of service. “I know you have money, Jason. You could afford to live in a better part of town.”

“Yeah, well,” Jason says. “This is my part of town. You don’t know it like I do. It might be broken, but it’s still got some beauty in it.”

Tim thinks he sounds like Bruce when he talks like that, but he doesn’t say it. 

“See,” Jason says once they reach the street. He points to a group of kids playing and splashing around in a fire hydrant spraying water everywhere. “They don’t know they’re from the bad part of town. They’re just having fun. This is all they know.”

“Yeah,” Tim says. “I get that.”

But Jason shakes his head. “You don’t,” he says. “You can’t know because you didn’t grow up here.”

“I didn’t mean --”

Jason holds up his hand. “It’s fine,” he says and even offers a tiny hint of a smile. “I’m done pulling your pigtails about being a spoiled little rich boy, okay? I was just saying.”

“Okay,” Tim says once they reach the car and Jason rolls his eyes when he gets his keyfob out of his pocket and disarms the alarm, but then Tim’s opening the passenger side door for him and Jason gives him a funny look and a nervous laugh.

“Thanks. I don’t know how I would’ve possibly figured out how to open the door myself.”

“Shut up and get in the car, Jason,” Tim smiles and walks around to the other side and gets in.

 

: : :

 

They actually get to the restaurant late and the server has already given Tim’s reservation to another couple, but after he exchanges a few words, a few bills, and drops Bruce’s name once or twice he’s able to get them a table in the back.

“Smooth,” Jason says, not sounding very impressed as they slide into their seats. 

“Whatever,” Tim says. “I’m not the one who took eight hours to primp like a girl.”

Jason actually blushes for a second and tries to hide it behind his menu. When the waiter comes back with their water and offers to bring them a bottle of wine, Jason rattles something off and Tim just sits and stares as Jason and the waiter converse back and forth until the waiter finally smiles and nods and disappears into the back again. 

“You speak Italian,” Tim says, dumbfounded and more than a little turned on. 

“Oh,” Jason says, like he didn't realize he was doing it. “Yeah. And Russian. French. German. Portuguese...I think that’s it.”

Tim stares.

“What? Like you don’t know half a dozen languages.”

“I know French,” Tim says. “Because I took it in school. I can ask where the bathroom is, I think.”

Jason shrugs. “Learned Portuguese from my neighbor when I was a kid. Spent a lot of time in Europe before coming back over here. I just pick it up easy or something, I guess. ”

“It’s amazing,” Tim says and there it is again, that color high in Jason’s cheeks. “Also, I have no idea what you ordered.”

Jason snickers a little at that. “Me either,” he says. “But it sounded good, didn’t it?”

 

: : :

 

They end up with a white wine that probably costs more than Tim’s monthly car payment and Tim barely gets halfway through the glass before he holds the glass up, looking at it like it’s caused him physical pain, and says, “This is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

“Fuck, it really is,” Jason laughs and sets his glass down on the table, flags the waiter down and ends up ordering them both cokes to go with their dinner. 

It’s not hard to talk to Jason. They mostly talk about the job, speaking low or using code whenever they’re afraid they might be overheard, but they talk about other things too, like Roy’s new project or how Steph’s doing in school, what kind of hell Damian’s putting Bruce through this week. Tim complains about all the boring meetings he has to go to and Jason complains about Roy nearly blowing him up every other day. 

After dinner Tim drives him back to his place and pulls over to the curb, puts the car in park and finishes listening to the story Jason’s telling about his and Roy’s latest trip to France. When he gets done, they fall into an awkward silence.

Tim’s just opening his mouth to say good-bye when Jason says, “You wanna come up or something?”

“Yeah,” Tim says and turns the engine off. “Sure.”

He follows Jason back up the stairs, Jason making idle chit chat the whole time about his neighbors until they reach his door and he pulls his keys out of his pocket to unlock the door. 

“Hey, actually,” Tim says. “I should probably just go.”

“Oh,” Jason says and if Tim didn’t know any better he’d think he sounded disappointed. “Yeah, okay. I’m beat anyway. Don’t remember the last time I got more than three hours of sleep in a row.”

“Yeah,” Tim says. “Me either.”

They stand there like that for a another few moments, awkward silence falling again until Tim says, “Thanks. For coming to dinner with me. I had a good time.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, clearing his throat lightly. “I -- it was nice.”

“Yeah,” Tim says, then he’s looking at Jason and holding Jason’s eyes and Jason looks like he wants to bolt, but he doesn’t, so Tim takes a step forward, closes the distance between them, and presses his mouth to Jason’s. He means for it to be brief, just a quick, chaste kiss good night, but then Jason’s eyes are flashing open and he’s reaching out, touching Tim’s hair and opening his mouth for him and Tim cups the back of Jason’s neck and _really_ kisses him, sweeps his tongue into his mouth and backs him up against the door of his apartment and kisses him the way he’s been wanting to do all night.

When he forces himself to pull away they’re both panting. 

“You wanna come inside?” Jason asks, a little out of breath and Tim just nods, follows him inside. 

“Could’ve told me this was a date,” Jason says, pushing Tim back against the door. 

“Thought it was obvious,” Tim says and leans in to kiss Jason again, pull his bottom lip between his teeth. “I thought I've been very obvious.”

“Yeah well,” Jason says, grabbing the front of Tim's shirt when Tim moves his mouth to his neck. “Maybe I don’t have a lot of experience with people trying to woo me.”

Tim giggles against Jason’s throat. “ _Woo_?” 

“Shut up,” Jason says and Tim kisses him again, traces the contours of Jason’s mouth with his tongue, sucks on his bottom lip until Jason makes a soft noise for him, then Tim walks them over to the couch, lies down and pulls Jason on top of him. 

They make out like inexperienced teenagers, desperate and curious, just kissing and touching each other everywhere they can get their hands. Tim kisses the side of Jason’s neck and Jason makes more of those soft little noises when Tim sucks a hickey onto his throat, slips his hands around Jason’s waist and lets them slide down to his ass, pulling their bodies flush together. 

Jason’s breathing hot against his neck and Tim can feel just how hard he is against his hip, squeezes Jason’s ass in his hands and grinds up into him, drawing a soft moan from Jason’s lips. 

He didn’t mean for it to go this far. He only meant to take Jason out for dinner, maybe kiss him goodnight. He had intended to take things slow, but now he’s got Jason on top of him, rolling his hips down against him and making the hottest noises every time, like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt and Tim just -- he can’t stop _now._

“Like this?” Tim murmurs and squeezes Jason’s ass as he grinds their dicks together and Jason _whimpers_ into his neck. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Fuck.”

Tim grabs Jason's face and fucks his tongue into his mouth as Jason moves against him, moaning against Tim’s mouth a little with each roll of his hips.

“God,” Tim says, pushing Jason’s hair out of his face so he can look at him. “You make me crazy. Do you have idea how crazy you make me?"

“No," Jason says into Tim's mouth. "Tell me."

"Jason," Tim says. "I want you so much. I've - - _fuck_ , I've always wanted you. Wanted this for so long."

Then Jason's mouth is on him again, kissing him hard and hungry and his thighs are bracketing Tim's and Tim is arching up to meet him, grabbing Jason's face in his hands. 

“God, I want to fuck you,” he breathes out and feels Jason shudder against him, then go completely still. 

“Not right now,” Tim says quickly, sensing his hesitation. “But I want -- can you take your shirt off? I just want to feel you.”

“Yeah,” Jason breathes out and Tim kisses him in between tugging his shirt off and then Jason’s, runs his hands all up and down the planes of Jason’s back, sucks kisses on his throat and all over his chest as he grips Jason’s ass, tilts his hips and Jason lets out a sharp moan when their dicks grind together. 

“Feel so good,” Tim murmurs into his skin, slips his hand down the back of Jason’s pants and digs his fingers into his ass. 

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, gasping when Tim shifts his hips again, pulling Jason’s hips down against him at the same time. “ _God,_ Tim.”

“Yeah,” Tim pants. “God, Jason. I just want to _feel_ you.”

“Please,” Jason says breathlessly and Tim kisses him _hard_ , works his hand between them and tugs Jason’s pants open, pushes them off his hips a little bit, then Jason’s fumbling with _his_ button and zipper and Tim helps him out, lifts his hips up and Jason yanks his pants off his hips then they’re fitting together again and Tim grabs Jason’s face and they groan into each other mouths when their dicks slide together. 

“Oh fuck,” Jason gasps out and presses his forehead to Tim’s. “God, _fuck_.”

“Yeah,” Tim murmurs and licks his palm, reaching between to get his hand around both of them, swipes his thumb over the head of Jason’s cock and bites his lip when he feels how wet it is, spreads the precome all over both of them. 

“Oh my god,” Jason groans, fucking into Tim’s grip. “ _Tim._ ”

“I know,” Tim says, catching Jason’s mouth in a wet, messy kiss. “God, I _know._ You feel too good, I can’t -- God, _Jason_.”

Jason goes quiet when he comes, just stares down at Tim and bites his teeth into his lip until Tim says, “No, no, let me hear you,” and Jason fucking _sobs_ into Tim’s shoulder and shudders and shakes apart on top of him, his hips still thrusting unevenly into Tim’s fist until Tim says, “Jason, Jason, _fuck--_ ” and comes so hard his toes curl and the muscle in his calf cramps up, cups the back of Jason’s neck and kisses him through it, moaning and whimpering into his mouth every time they slide together. 

Jason just collapses on top of him and they’re sticky and gross, but neither of them seem to mind much. Tim just keeps running his fingers through Jason’s sweat-damp hair and kissing his jaw, his neck, anything he can get his mouth on as Jason breathes softly against his shoulder. 

Later, after they’ve cleaned up they finally make it to Jason’s bed and Tim runs his fingers all over Jason’s scars, kisses him until both of their mouths are raw and sore from it. 

“I wasn’t going to do this,” Tim says, curled into Jason’s side with Jason’s hair tickling his forehead. “I wanted to take you out a couple of times first, take it slow.”

Jason laughs. “You wanted to actually date me?”

“Well yeah,” Tim says, propping up on his elbow. “I thought. You know. Since you’ve never really done that.”

“Yeah?” Jason asks. “What were we gonna do?”

“We were going to go to the movies,” Tim says, smiling. “I need to know if you’re one of those people who talk during or if you’re the kind that throws popcorn in people's hair.”

“Mm, definitely popcorn,” Jason says. “What else?”

“Well, I don’t know what flavor of ice cream is your favorite.”

“Neopolitan,” Jason says. “Best of both worlds.”

“Also mini-golf,” Tim adds sheepishly. 

“Oh,” Jason says. “We are _definitely_ doing that one.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jason says. “Actually, I think we should probably do all of them.”

Tim pokes his head up, grins. “For research?”

“Yeah,” Jason says, dragging Tim on top of him and kissing him. “For research.”


End file.
